


A Wallet. A Punch. A Date.

by quiet_or_die



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: M/M, Swearing, brief mention of physical abuse, hinted possibility of rape, male dating, mentions of sexual molest, saiyuki bang 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 21:12:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11998059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiet_or_die/pseuds/quiet_or_die
Summary: From the prompt Person A steals Person B’s wallet because they are in a hard place and need the money for whatever reason. Later on, they feel guilty and go to return Person B’s wallet. Upon opening the door, Person B says “You” and punches Person A in the face. Thus, Goku lives with Nataku in a foster home that they need to get out of urgently and he takes an opportunity in the form of Sanzo’s wallet.





	A Wallet. A Punch. A Date.

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, the disclaimer: Saiyuki and all its affiliated characters, artwork, etc. are property of the amazing mangaka Kazuya Minekura whose work I adore. This AU story is of my own creation, using Minekura's characters and parallels to her story. This is not done for profit.
> 
> Much love to @jelainethefirst for her lovely accompanying artwork:
> 
> https://asuni-jelaine.deviantart.com/art/wallet-FINISHED-702111018?ga_submit_new=10%3A1504272346
> 
> Lots of gratitude to my beta @mtblackbearfic
> 
> And thanks of course to http://fyeahsaiyuki.tumblr.com/big-bang-2017 !
> 
> Just because I thought it ironic and fitting even though I couldn't figure out how to make it work on ao3: the name of the font I had chosen for Sanzo’s handwriting is “Shadows into Light.” 
> 
> And no, the numbers I used were not random, lol. ; P
> 
> I have a group-affiliated but open to indies Sanzo Genjo rp blog at: https://quiet-or-die.tumblr.com/  
> (Follow me for headcanons and analysis, or to rp with me!)

A Wallet, A Punch, A Date

 

On a grey Thursday evening, a young man with brown hair, in a pair of frayed jean cutoffs and baggy hoodie, shrank against an alley wall as he eyed the crowd that thronged the business section of the city. It was more populated than any other part of the city at this time of day. He was here for just that reason, because he was desperate.

Son Goku and his best friend Nataku were foster children living with a man and his wife who were . . . less than ideal. Both boys had been shuffled through the foster system enough to have had plenty of experience with such foster families, so the verbal abuse of the wife and the difficult chores she assigned them (on meals that consisted of the bare minimum) were things they could work around. But a couple months in, the touching had started. It had only been on rare occasions at first, but had been steadily increasing. Nataku was the main recipient of the husband’s growing attention, and the bruising and touching were more and more common. Goku didn’t like the way the husband eyed Nataku these days, and he wasn’t planning to have them stick around long enough to find out what the man might do now that his wife had left for a business trip. Goku had already tried going through the system once and it worked about as well as expected—by making everything worse. This time, he was going to take things into his own hands. But disappearing took money. They would need travel money, new clothes, food. And they didn’t have the means of obtaining any of those. Which meant they needed to steal.

So at the first opportunity, Goku had found a way to slip away into the city. It’d been hours and he’d had no luck, especially since he was trying to find someone he wouldn’t feel too guilty about stealing from, and he sure didn’t want to get caught. But he wasn’t an experienced thief, so the likelihood of meeting these criteria was dismal. It was past his curfew already so in the end, he went for the only chance he had.

Goku ran through the crowd, pushing through the flush of bodies when—wham! Just as he’d tried to dash around some slower walkers, he collided with someone else trying to take advantage of the brief opening. Somehow his elbow caught on the strap of the other’s messenger bag and they both went down. The bag’s strap broke, sending objects scattering everywhere—skipping across the pavement and sliding under people’s feet. Goku landed on top of the stranger, elbow in the guy’s gut.

“Get _off_ me you—you chimp!” The voice came out as an angry wheeze, muffled by Goku’s weight. Goku sprang up instantly.

“I-I’m so sorry!” Goku began, turning to offer a hand; but the young man batted Goku’s hand away and got up on his own. Honestly, Goku hardly noticed, he was too dazed. The guy (taller, now that he’d stood up) was _gorgeous_. Goku had never thought of another male as beautiful, but with his striking, unusual violet eyes, golden-blonde locks, porcelain skin, and sharp but well-defined and elegant features, this man was just that. Despite his angry scowl.

Goku came back to his surroundings with a jolt as the other, grumbling to himself, began to collect his strewn belongings. “I’m _so_ sorry,” Goku apologized once more, dropping onto his knees and rushing to help pick up pens and papers.

“Tch, whatever.” He didn’t even look over.

“Here.” Timidly, Goku held out a couple books and pens, biting back yet another apology with difficulty.

Violet eyes finally turned his way, narrowed as they scanned over him. But then a shrug, followed by an eyeroll when the scrutiny was over. “Thanks.” The single word was gruff, but it made Goku like him a lot more.

“For?” Goku asked, curious. The other’s eyes slid away from his own, turning back to the ground to look for any other misplaced supplies. A small frown returned.

“Stopping.” It seemed like that would be it, but after a lengthy pause he continued, “Most people just keep going.”

“Oh,” Goku didn’t quite know what to say to that. Why wouldn’t he help? Wasn’t it just the right thing to do? He started wondering what the stranger would look like with a smile on his face.

But then he saw it—the guy’s wallet. Plain, a dark chocolate brown that was almost black, and leather with a “K” and an “S” embossed on one corner. Desperation made Goku snatch it up, though guilt made his fingers tremble. Stuffing it into his oversized hoodie’s pocket, Goku tried to stay casual.

“Well, I-I think that's everything.” Did his voice sound okay? To him, it came out as strange, unrecognizable.  The guy nodded in agreement, though, and as those violet eyes rose, Goku backed away. “Sorry again. Bye!”

And then he turned on his heel and walked as quickly as he dared, expecting a hand to come down on his shoulder at any moment. The one time that he dared to look back, he didn’t see any gold or purple. And rather than feeling elated or relieved, Goku felt sick and cold.

 

* * *

 

Beep.

. . . beepbeep . . .

beeeeeeeEPPpp.

 

beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbe—CRaISHHHhhshr.

 

The alarm clock shudders from the blow and falls to the ground, where it breaks. Which is just perfect, just the fucking perfect start to a shitty morning, Sanzo thinks bitterly. His night had been anything _but_ restful, and his jaw aches with the tension of clenched teeth. With a groan, Sanzo tries to will his headache away as he massages his forehead. It’s been years, but he can still remember the exact shade (or near enough) of those startled, golden-hued brown eyes. And he is still pissed off about the incident, furious that he’d let his guard down, that he hadn’t been more thorough. All of the nonverbal cues he’d needed had been there. Practically screeching at him. But no, Sanzo hadn’t realized his wallet was gone until he went to pay for a much-needed cup of coffee just a few feet away from the encounter, and by then it was too late—the guy was gone. With his ID, credit cards, and cash. It’d been the crown on the king of all goddamn shitty summers. Because that had been one catastrophe of a summer.

Sanzo tried to just forget the incident, but his mind had apparently preserved it, replaying in his dreams, just for him. It was years ago anyway. But that image of the boy’s face and the frustration of a stolen wallet were linked to other things, ones that are harder to dismiss. And so irritation and regret weigh down Sanzo’s shoulders with burdens he’s never wanted, as he heads to work.

 

* * *

 

Seven years. It’s been seven years. Goku shifts from foot to foot nervously as the bus draws closer to its next stop. Not much makes Goku anxious these days, but finding the guy whose wallet you stole years ago to return it? Well, that’s pretty darn nerve-wracking. Goku fingers the wallet in his pocket, feeling even guiltier when he realizes he’s doing it—and at the thought that stroking it helps him calm down. Really, for him it’s been a lucky charm of sorts—it was the agent of change for him. Not that everything had worked out, because it hadn’t. Still, it’d been the start of his freedom. And that was huge because before that . . . there really wasn’t any good in Goku’s life besides Nataku—and honestly, Nataku had come with a maelstrom of negative stuff as well (not that Goku is blaming him, because stuff just happens).

The cash had all been spent long ago, and Goku had completely shredded the credit cards as soon as he and Nataku had reached the point where they were so hungry they actually considered using them. Goku wouldn’t let them for myriad reasons—someone could track them down. Disappearing meant getting rid of anything traceable. He also felt bad enough having stolen the wallet in the first place. Plus he suspected the guy—Genjo Sanzo according to the ID—would be the type to have quickly cancelled the cards anyway.

Without the cash and cards, the wallet is pretty thin. Practical. Just a basic leather tri-fold in a super dark chocolate brown with “K. S.” tastefully embossed in tiny gold letters in one corner on the front.

Goku has wondered about that since he first examined the contents. The driver’s license identifies the man with hair like the sun and amethyst eyes as Genjo Sanzo—with no middle name. So why K?

There are several receipts in the main fold (the ink long faded), a pack of matches in one of the credit card slots (only one match is left; it’d been a nearly full pack but Goku and Nataku had used them to burn newspaper fires to keep warm), and a couple pennies. There is also a business card with some dark-haired lady’s image, a lieutenant officer of the NYPD, and the torn corner of a photo depicting grass and sidewalk, stuffed into a fold and forgotten. The ID card is what Goku’s taken out and examined the most. It’s actually embarrassing, and maybe more than a bit creepy, how often he’s done so. Goku had tried to visit the address listed on the ID, but the building had been bulldozed. But now Goku has finally tracked him down.

The bus lurches to a stop and Goku takes a deep breath while others disembark. “Thanks!” Goku calls back, raising a hand to the driver as he steps off into the crisp fall air.

The walk helps. Enough so that Goku’s practiced grins don’t feel quite as forced. When Goku enters the apartment building, his steps slow though. He triple-checks the address scrawled across his hand just to buy a couple more seconds when he finds the right door. He takes another deep breath and lets it out slowly before giving a firm rap with his knuckles—despite his trembling hand. The grin is already faltering but Goku holds it anyway. He’s not sure smiling is really appropriate, but he’s trying to be as optimistic and relaxed as possible, and that means he needs to smile.

Footsteps. Then the door opens and Goku’s so startled to see how intense those purple eyes are—so much more alert than the ID picture could capture—and to see that sun-brushed blonde again that he takes in a sharp breath and almost chokes on it when he starts his practiced line. “Hi! I’m Goku, I’m not sure you remember me bu—”

“You.” The word is practically a whisper, but it claws its way out between clenched teeth and vibrates with the energy of an angry shout in a low dangerous growl.

Goku struggles to re-lift the corners of his sinking, suddenly painful, grin, despite the threat. “I—”

 

And then he’s punched in the face.

 

* * *

 

Of all the—

This is not a good day. At all. Work sucked and Sanzo only opened the door without checking the spyhole first because Tenpou mentioned maybe needing to borrow a book and no one else really ever knocks. Then it's _that_ guy, just standing there _smiling_ , talking so casually. . . . Needless to say, Sanzo’s fist flies simultaneously with the last dregs of his patience. The thief—Goku—stumbles back, hands reaching to investigate the damage and catch the blood that’s already flowing. What was he even thinking, coming here?

“What. Are you. Doing here.” Sanzo bites off the end of each section, violet eyes narrowed, one hand gripping his doorframe with whitened knuckles. If he lets go, he’s not so sure he’ll be able to stop himself after one punch again—he’s dying to bleed out all his irritation into this boy. Really, Sanzo should just slam the door in the idiot’s face. . . . But, he _is_ curious.

Goku sways back a few more steps, working to regain his balance after the power of that tightly coiled punch. He wonders, as if he’s not really participating but is a mere spectator, if his nose is broken.

“I-I deserve that,” he mumbles out around pain and blood, as one hand digs into his pocket. “I just wanted to apologize and to return this.” He holds out the wallet hesitantly.

Sanzo is not impressed, as is clear by the single raised eyebrow as he contemplates the object. The eyebrow slams back down. “ _Why_ would I want that?” he demands, tone glacial. “It’s been years. I’ve replaced everything already. There’s nothing of value in it.” Except his eyes linger on the embossed initials. He’d forgotten it’d been Koumyou’s, which makes him uncomfortably surprised. He supposes he’s tried to forget on purpose.

Goku’s hand droops momentarily, but then straightens back out. “I-I know. I just. . . .” He takes a moment to recollect himself. “IwasjustinareallyhardplaceandwassodesperateandthenIbumpedintoyouand. . . .”  Goku tries to blink back tears, both of pain and shame. “I just wanted to . . . return this.” Each word is smaller and quieter than the last, but his hand stays out.

Sanzo snorts. “So you're not even replacing the money you stole.”

Goku bites back sudden anger. “I will. I just  . . . don’t remember how much was in there so. . . .”

“So?” Sanzo prompts scathingly. “You’ll pay back _whatever_ amount I say?”

Goku stares at the ground, jaw set stubbornly as he wonders if this was a mistake. Still, after a moment, he gives a sharp nod and in that same moment his anger fizzles out and his shoulders slump. He’s pretty sure there was at least $150 in cash originally, and he’s still not really at a point where he can pay that back without sacrificing some food or heat money. Still, he came here because he wants to square things off.

Sanzo sighs, suddenly just feeling old and tired. Taking in the younger man’s defeated posture makes him feel even older and . . . a bit sad. “Idiot,” he says after a few moments of silence. “Like I remember how much there was either.” Sanzo’s hand slides off the frame and he backs up, opening the door completely. Goku looks up and stares, uncomprehending. Sanzo jerks his head toward the interior. “Well? You going to come in or what?”

Goku hesitates, not really sure what the nonverbal invitation means exactly and wary of another punch, deserved or no. But startled by the verbal invitation, he starts forward without really thinking about it and finds himself suddenly in Genjo Sanzo’s home as said man closes the door behind them. Goku’s still holding the wallet out dazedly in one hand, while the other still works on stemming the flow of blood. Sanzo takes the wallet from Goku’s loose grasp with a surprising gentleness. Goku watches his thumb softly sweep twice over the embossed letters, his expression nostalgic. Then Sanzo turns on his heel and is gone down the hallway by the time Goku’s flinch ends. He stands in the entryway uncertainly, not sure if he’s supposed to just leave now or what. He hears water running, and then Sanzo’s back with a dampened cloth towel.

“Here.” Sanzo’s tone is gruff as he thrusts the towel into Goku’s chest. “Is it broken?” He asks after Goku starts to dab gently around his nose.

“Um. . . .”

Sanzo’s eyes roll and then he grabs Goku’s wrist and pulls him forward a few feet and then sideways into a bathroom where he pushes Goku onto a closed toilet seat. Sanzo drops his wrist by the time Goku finishes processing the move. The lights flash on and Goku blinks at the harshness before he realizes just how close Sanzo is to him, staring at his nose critically with a slight frown.

“Well? Did I break it?” The question is rapid and Goku apparently doesn’t answer quickly enough, or Sanzo suspects he still doesn’t know, because Sanzo’s already prodding at his nose with delicate fingers. Goku hisses sharply at a sudden flare of pain in his nose.

“Sorry,” Sanzo says grudgingly at the flinch. He pries away the towel from Goku and wets it again, wiping the remaining blood away himself. “Can you breath through it okay?” Goku tries a tentative breath, then a deeper one before nodding. Sanzo grunts and grabs Goku’s chin in one hand, tilting it first one way and then the other. “It doesn't look crooked.”

Goku’s not sure if he’s supposed to reply. Honestly, he’s not sure of anything right now except that he would rather not be punched again.

“Tch. I guess we’ll wait a bit to make sure the blood’s stopped and see if it’s broken or not.” Sanzo’s hands leave and Goku’s surprised at the loss of warmth. A new, dry towel is shoved at him, then somehow he’s propelled by the shoulder down the hall and into a tiny dining room/living room mashup. “Sit down, idiot,” Sanzo demands as he walks around the counter and into the attached kitchen. Goku pulls out a chair and sits at the table.

“So, uh . . .” It would be weird to call the guy by his first name, right? “Sanzo, how much do I owe you then?”

Sanzo walks back over with two mugs of tea and sits so that he’s around the corner from Goku, rather than across or next to him, and slides a mug over. Goku frees a hand from the towel to grasp it gratefully. Its warmth feels good against his fingers as he raises it and takes a careful sip. Green tea.

Sanzo watches, chin on the heel of one hand, elbow resting on the table, and the other hand curled around his own cup. He lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “Well, I’m pretty sure I just broke your nose so. . . .” He trails off. And that’s when Goku comprehends the full absurdity of their situation and begins laughing. Sanzo’s eyes widen as he stares, bewildered by the outburst.

“Owww,” Goku whines when the laughter makes his nose twinge. Giddy laughter drops down to chuckles.

“Idiot,” Sanzo comments, face unreadable. Goku smiles at him.

“Well it’s sorta funny, isn’t it? All this?” His hand waves over the table vaguely, including both of them. A corner of Sanzo’s mouth lifts slightly and he lets out a couple puffs of air from his nose. It takes a bit for Goku to realize it’s laughter.

“I suppose so,” Sanzo relents, taking his first sip of tea.

“Sooo . . . what now?” Goku asks.

Sanzo snorts. “Drink your tea and be quiet for five seconds.” The wallet’s back in his hand, Goku notices, thumb smoothing over the letters rhythmically.

“What’s up with the ‘K’?” Goku finds himself asking, curiosity overruling both self-preservation and what little etiquette he has. “Did it belong to your father or sumthin’?”

“. . . something like that.”

Goku doesn't press for more.

“So you got out then?”

“Hunh?”

“That desperate situation or whatever. . . .”

“Mmm, yeah. For the most part anyway. We’re safe now, at least. We’re just not real financially stable still.” Sanzo nods but doesn’t comment. They sit in silence, an absurdly comfortable one, and finish their tea.

“How’s the nose?”

The blood has stopped and a truly spectacular array of color is blossoming across Goku’s face. Goku investigates it carefully.

“I can breath okay still. . . .” he winces as his fingers find a tender area. “I don't know. . . . it hurts most right here. . . . hm, I think it’ll be okay though.” Goku hops up.

Sanzo rises and shakes his head at Goku, amused despite himself. “Well, I think we can call it even then.” He turns the wallet with his fingers. “Thanks for bringing this.” Sanzo indicates the wallet with his chin.

“Yeah,” Goku replies, not sure what else to say as they move back down the hall to the entryway. Sanzo reaches for the doorknob and Goku realizes with a panic that this is it, it’s over, that he’s not okay with that. “Hey I, uh, still feel like I owe you though.”

“Forget it,” Sanzo grouses, ready for the other to leave now, and yet also not wanting to be by himself when he knows he’ll be thinking about Koumyou.

Goku shifts from foot to foot nervously. “How about dinner?”

Sanzo stills, surprised. “What?”

“How about I take you out for dinner?” Goku repeats.

Sanzo can only blink for an awkward length of time. He feels sluggish and stupid. “Didn’t you say your finances aren’t real great?” He’s fumbling for a reason, why? . . . Wait, he _wants_ to go out with Goku, Sanzo suddenly realizes, uncomfortably shocked by the realization.

“Yeah but I planned to pay you back at least part of the sum right away so. . . .” Goku meets Sanzo’s eyes, suddenly frank. “Besides, I’d really like to. Take you out, I mean.” Goku’s not sure how to interpret the expression on Sanzo’s face, or his lack of movement.

“Fine.” The word rustles like a dry leaf against pavement—which is what Sanzo’s strangely dry mouth feels like. Swallowing doesn’t help either.

“Hunh?” Goku’s eyes are wide. Sanzo had been so quiet, he’s not sure if he heard right.

“Fine,” Sanzo repeats, louder. “Where?”

“Oh, um. . . .” Shitshitshit. Goku doesn’t know any of the restaurants around here. “Why don’t we walk around and try some place you—neither of us—has been before? Something that looks good to both of us?”

Sanzo considers the suggestion. It’s something he’s only done on the rare occasion that he’s been dragged out by “friends,” and they ended up stumbling around tipsy or drunk, looking for some place that was open and smelled good. “Let me grab a jacket.”

“A-alright,” Goku replies, stunned that Sanzo’s agreed to all of this. Sanzo is equally bemused as he goes to his room and grabs the first jacket he finds—a black peacoat. He leaves his room, heads to the kitchen space, and dumps the contents of his current wallet out onto the counter; he plucks the old ID out of Koumyou’s wallet, then shifts his current ID and some cash into it, and grabs his keys before rejoining Goku by the door.

“Ready?” Goku asks, his small smile growing as excitement builds. Sanzo stuffs the wallet into a pocket and then nods, staring at the confident sparkle in Goku’s eyes, still a bit unsure himself. “Then let’s go.” Goku’s smile blazes with light and joy when it reaches its peak. Sanzo smiles back, and it’s small and cautious, but it makes Goku think of moments when the night sky is covered in cloud and then the clouds move and the moon’s light shines through, and it’s perfect. None of the smiles Goku tried to imagine came close to the actual thing. Sanzo’s real smile is breathtakingly beautiful, and Goku can’t help but think that’s it’s just right.

 

* * *

 

As soon as Sanzo locks the door, he turns and starts down the hallway. Heart hammering, Goku matches stride. Silence falls and Sanzo doesn’t seem particularly inclined to break it, wordlessly ignoring the elevator and heading for the stairs. Goku, however, is restless and his anxious energy thrums for release. He doesn’t want to annoy Sanzo though, or come off as immature or something, so he holds the stream of observations and questions sealed behind his lips. . . . until Sanzo pushes open the door at the bottom of the stairway, leaving Goku to catch it as it closes behind him, and they both step into the edge of the fold of open air.

“So what kinda food do you like anyway?”

Sanzo shrugs. Goku wants to press but forces himself to wait instead, thinking of Nataku’s gentle admonishing: “Goku, not everyone says anything and everything _immediately_ like you do. Sometimes you’ve got to wait, let them decide what or how much to say. . . . let them decide when they want to respond.”

“Asian food,” Sanzo says finally. “Burgers. Steak. Mayonnaise.” He shrugs again, trailing off.

“I like those too. And meat dumplings, well any kind of dumpling really, and fruit and veggies and seafood, though not oysters really—yuck—and—” Goku halts, noticing Sanzo watching him with a bemused expression, one eyebrow raised delicately. “Well, I guess I like pretty much everything,” Goku admits, just a tad embarrassed. He doesn’t want the other man to think him odd, but seriously, food is just awesome. “So, I guess you should choose where we eat,” Goku adds, trying to give Sanzo a chance to add to the conversation again, instead of Goku just hijacking it and running away with the topic.

“If you want,” is all Sanzo returns though. Goku waits longer than he usually can stand, pushing himself to further his boundaries for silence. Sanzo’s stoic expression and compact answers make Goku nervous, wondering what the other’s thinking and if he’s enjoying this, or hating it, or just not caring one way or another (which probably would bother Goku more than him just disliking it). It really doesn't take Goku long to crack.

“So uh, there any foods you don’t like?” Food is always a safe topic for Goku. He can keep to this subject for longer than most, and it stops him from blurting out things that make most people uncomfortable. . . . like just outright demanding if they actually do really want to be here. Sanzo doesn’t really seem like the type to agree to anything he’d rather not do though. Goku is straining to hear Sanzo’s next words so intensely that it takes him a bit to hear the soft laughter—the thrum of near soundless amusement rising from his chest and released through his nose.

Goku is fascinated, now that he has less on his mind and can take in more visual details. Sanzo’s lips have the slightest quirk to them, but only on one side, as if he’s amused despite himself and would rather keep it close. The deep-set furrow between his brows has eased slightly and his eyes—oh God his eyes—seem to have lifted, making the strained skin around them more subtle. It isn’t until Goku observes these small changes that he realizes just how still and tightly controlled Sanzo’s expression has been and how very closed off his eyes have been, lowered into a perpetual challenging stare. The frown lines around his mouth are still there, as the muscles are used to pulling down and in, but everything is slightly less restrained—perhaps allowed to vary from their designated positions. Unfortunately, as soon as Sanzo realizes he’s being observed, everything slams back into lockdown.

“What?”

Sanzo’s tone is irritable, but not hostile. Still, the return to what Goku realizes is all that Sanzo generally allows the world to see is made all the more poignant now that Goku’s seen him relax his guard, just for a few breaths.

“Nothin’, just surprised.”

Sanzo snorts. “You really like food,” he replies. As if that’s all, as if that’s a simple explanation for all that goes on behind those carefully regulated facial tics that seem to be so natural. And maybe that _is_ all that’s needed.

“Sure do,” Goku says easily, beaming. “You look really good when you laugh,” he adds, edging onto the tightrope as he watches the microexpressions that dart through Sanzo’s guard, catching his surprise before the apparent permanent state of mild distemper is back. And though Goku catches the slight body movements expressing discomfort as Sanzo’s control returns to his face first, before spreading down to even his feet, Goku also gains the impression that it’s more of an unease in not knowing how to respond than from the words having been expressed.

Goku backs off immediately, before the discomfort _can_ spread to the actual event. “Anyway, I don’t see how anyone can’t _not_ get excited about food. Everyone eats it, yeah? So it should be something they enjoy.”

The expression Sanzo shoots Goku this time is too odd for Goku to read; he’s never seen anything quite like it before. Actually, Sanzo is just super complex. Goku’s always been good at observing and understanding people, and he’s met people who have many layers and immense self control (like Hakkai), people whose entire expression shifts depending on who they’re talking to (Nataku), and even people who are expressive and extravagant with their emotions but who also excel at deflection and distraction (like Gojyo). But Sanzo is harder. He doesn’t have a façade so much as a selectively to his expressions. Even when the signs declaring “unapproachable” fade, the underlayer is a calm blankness that effectively allows emotional tells to fade into its background. Microexpressions are always hard to consciously catch, let alone identify. Luckily, Goku is good at relying on instinct. His uncertainty lessens, actually, now that Goku has an idea of why Sanzo is so withdrawn. Goku’ll make mistakes sure, but he suspects he’ll do better than most if that’s how Sanzo always is.

“So any foods you hate?”

Sanzo’s eyebrows furrow a bit more. “Unsavory foods. Too sweet. Too spicy.”

Goku nods.

“You?” Sanzo adds after a moment.

“Mm . . . some stuff is too sour or bitter for me. And I don’t like eating things that are slimy.”

The sound of a jazzy saxophone improvising comes upon them, and it isn’t long before the player comes into view. Sanzo doesn’t slow, but Goku sees his attention has been caught by the music. There are a few people around and a food cart nearby, which Goku isn’t sure Sanzo would like, but then they could stay and listen. Not wanting to disturb either the moment or anyone listening to the saxophone player, Goku nudges Sanzo’s shoulder with his own, meets his eyes, then looks over at the food cart. Sanzo shrugs a shoulder carelessly, but the slight changes Goku had noticed before let him know what Sanzo didn’t say.

        The food cart is mainly kebobs and gyros, and everything smells enticing.

        “Remember, I’m paying,” Goku reminds Sanzo as soon as they join the line. Sanzo glances at him.

        “Do whatever you want.”

        He seems surprised and then bemused when Goku beams, “I will then.” The queue moves quickly and soon they’re claiming a nearby bench. Goku doesn’t usually just sit and listen to music, but it’s nice, he finds, now that he’s trying it. Then again, it doesn’t take much to please Goku, and just the fact that Sanzo agreed to this even though it started with a punch is enough for Goku.

        Sanzo looks over when Goku starts laughing, eyebrows sinking down and inward. “What?”

        “I was just realizing again how funny it is that this started with a punch,” Goku chuckles.

        “It started with a stolen wallet, actually.”

        Goku glances over quickly, unsure, but Sanzo has a subtle smirk. “Well, if we’re going back that far, technically it started with us crashing into each other.”

        Sanzo laughs in his quiet, huffing way and Goku’s grin widens.

        “Were you _planning_ on asking me on a date?” Sanzo asks, still with the unobtrusive trace of a smile, one that’s slightly incredulous perhaps.

        “Hm, not exactly, I just wanted to return it and then. . . I don’ know, I didn’t really plan any further than that.”

        Sanzo snorts. “Why does that not surprise me,” dryly.

        “Well, I mean, if I _had_ planned further, it probably would have changed somewhat after you punched me.” And that brings the vestige of expression that is Sanzo’s smile—personally, Goku thinks it’s more honest than most people’s wider, toothier ones. “So you like jazz music?”

“Yeah.”

        “What other types of music do ya like?”

        “Classical. Classic rock. Some German and Japanese rock.” A pause. “You?”

        “Hm, I never really listened to music just to listen. I usually play music while doing homework or jogging or something. . . . so I guess electronic and pop music, stuff that’s upbeat. But really . . . there’s no music I can’t stand.”

        “Hm.” Goku glances over to see a thoughtful expression on Sanzo’s face as he chews. “You’re not very picky.” Sanzo says it simply, factually. Goku hums an affirmative anyway; he’d say something if he hadn’t just taken a huge bite.

        “This is so good!” he exclaims when he’s able. Sanzo doesn’t say anything so Goku, a bit uncertain, turns to him. “Do ya like it?”

        “I’m eating it, aren’t I?”

        For most people this wouldn’t really be much of an answer; from Sanzo it’s perfectly clear, so Goku beams, doubt politely dismissed. After that, they sit without talking again, just enjoying each other’s company and the music.

* * *

 

Surprisingly, Sanzo is enjoying this. He hadn’t been sure it was a good idea to do this (who, exactly, agrees to date someone who stole from them. . . . and whom they punched?). But what the hell. Koumyou had always told him to be more social, and he was the type who would probably end up being friends with someone who stole from him.

        Sanzo’s honestly not sure why the hell Goku would ask out someone who punched him in the face when he was trying to do the ethically right thing, though, or even why Goku bothered in the first place. Pay the money back? Fine. But return a wallet that has no intrinsic value and contains nothing? That’s odd. Although Sanzo is more thankful than he’ll ever admit for its return. Really, he doesn’t particularly care about the money—not anymore, at least. The wallet, though. He’d forgotten how much he’d cared about it until it was returned. He doesn’t have much that was Koumyou’s—just a couple old scrolls (that were worthless to most, but priceless for a few), his name, and some money that was almost gone now, having been used for tuition. Sanzo doesn’t have much in the way of belongings in general; he’s not much of a materialist. So the wallet’s return is something he’s genuinely happy for. But it’s not like he agreed because of that. If anything, it had more to do with how Goku had reacted after Sanzo punched him. . . . and after the crying-guilt-thing (that was just annoying and awkward). . . . and oddly enough, Goku’s smile.

        In Sanzo’s experience, smiles are more of a tool than anything, something that’s consciously utilized, generally to fulfill some goal, or to manipulate others. Goku though, Goku’s conscious smiles seem to fulfill no purpose beyond him wanting to do so. And his unconscious smiles appear in a higher ratio than in anyone else Sanzo has ever seen. Even Koumyou’s smiles were more conscious. His had had more of a motive. But Koumyou smiled for others as much as for himself: they were his kind way of helping others relax and feel more confident and comfortable so he could get to know them. Goku shared that quality. His smiles invited others to share his joy, to interact with him. It could be that Sanzo is just connecting Koumyou to Goku because Goku returned the wallet. But Sanzo generally is pretty adept at not lying to himself (and when he does, part of him is at least slightly aware of it), and he doesn’t really believe that’s it—even if something, or everything, initially stemmed from that.

“Hey, so can I ask you somethin’?”

This is the first time Goku’s asked permission instead of just asking it, so Sanzo’s guessing the topic’s going to be a more private one. Despite his misgivings, he’s also distantly curious. “What?”

“Your wallet . . . will ya tell me a bit about the ‘K’ person?” Goku hesitates a bit while asking, and Sanzo can hazard a conclusion: it’s one thing to laugh about the awkwardness that let to this (date?), but it’s another to ask something about the wallet you stole, especially something you asked earlier and were met with a subtle(ish) deflection. Goku, discerning Sanzo’s reluctance, hurries to add, “It’s jus’ you said it was ‘something like that,’ so I was wondering. . . . Well, I never really had a father but I met someone named Konzen who was a father figure, so I just. . . .” Goku ruffles the back of his hair and grimaces. “Ya know, I don’ know what I’m even asking, really. . . .”

Whether that’s true or not, Sanzo suspects he knows what Goku wants to know. “I never met my parents either. Koumyou is the one who raised me.” And honestly, Sanzo doesn’t know why he’s even sharing this. It’s not something he’s talked about at all, even to the people who knew Koumyou.

“So why’d he give ya his wallet?”

 

Sanzo’s expression doesn’t change, it’s more like it just stays in place—maybe slumps for a millisecond before it’s puppeteered back into place—and that meticulous maintenance is honestly a bit scary.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be askin’ all these questions.” Goku had just been getting Sanzo to open up a bit more; he didn’t want to ruin that, though it seems he may have done so already.

“It’s fine. He died,” Sanzo says, and the lack of emotion in his voice is so convincing it almost seems real rather than the heavily practiced production Goku can sense it is. “It was a long time ago.”

Suddenly, Goku feels like there’s a snake squirming inside his stomach. “Oh, did I—I didn’t—”

Sanzo stares at him blankly for a moment before he makes the leap Goku’s mind had taken. “No, when you stole it it had already been more than ten years.”

“Oh. Okay.” Thank Buddha or God or the friggin’ Monkey King. “If it was that long ago, were you in the foster or adoption system too?” Maybe he should back off, but Goku’s too much of a Curious George.

“No. Koumyou’s aunt Kanzeon and his cousin Jikaku took care of me after.”

“Hm, well I’m glad you at least avoided that ‘cause it really, _really_ sucks.”

Sanzo raises one eyebrow with precision. “Is that why you stole the wallet?”

“Hm,” Goku looks up in thought, head tilting a bit. “Well, kinda. I mean, I had been in the system for a while and it was starting to look like I’d move to actual adoption. But it was mainly cause I was with another boy, my friend Nataku, and the foster family we were with at the time was . . . well, it just wasn’t a good situation and it was gonna get worse, especially for him.”

Goku can’t help but shudder at the protracted gaze Sanzo levels on him. “So, you did it for the sake of your friend?” Goku has to take a recess from meeting Sanzo’s eyes at that. He doesn’t like lying. . . . but he’s not sure how the truth sounds. “Well yeah but also . . . I was scared of being alone and I wanted him to stay with me.” Goku twiddles with his napkin.

“Sounds like he was better off with you.”

Goku honestly is a bit startled at how easily Sanzo integrates Goku’s confession into the earlier framework Goku had given him. “I-I guess. . . .but it’s still selfish, isn’t it?”

Sanzo leans forward, elbows on his knees, fingers interlocked. “Everyone’s selfish. We’re all focused on our own survival, our own lives.”

It’s said as a fact. And maybe it is, but Goku still feels like Sanzo’s being a bit harsh—whether on others or himself, Goku’s not entirely sure.

“Hm, I don’t know about that. Even if it’s true, I’d like to think part of our survival is tied to having friends an’ stuff.”

“Well there you go then. It may be selfish but that doesn’t mean it’s a thing that’s unacceptable.”

“Hm, I suppose.”

Goku feels a lot better, actually, after talking about this with Sanzo. Even if his view is . . . well, kinda grim, Sanzo’s words are encouraging and seem pretty logical (not that Goku necessarily knows all that much about logic, he’s more of a instinct kinda guy). Under all the sour and bitter flavors, Sanzo is actually quite sweet! Goku wasn’t sure after being punched in the face cause that just sucked, but then Sanzo was kinda nice, if very awkward, afterwards so it was fine. Well, being punched is still not okay, but everything else since has been kind of great. Besides, while there are some who say that a person can’t hit someone they love unless they really don’t love them, Goku has seen both proof for and against that belief.

Sanzo crumples up his wrapper then sends it in a graceful arc right to a trashcan. And once again, Goku is realizing that it’s about time to leave and he doesn’t want to.

“Sooo, you wanna get ice cream or something?”

Sanzo gives him such a fixed stare that it takes all of Goku’s determination to avoid squirming in place or childishly trying to point out a random bird or boat just to change topics. Of course, such a blatant distraction looks more agreeable by each quarter-second. But the plain outer shell finally breaks, allowing Goku to see humor in quirked lips and wicked eyes.

“Are you making up for 500 years of being stuck in a cave without food or something?” And the tone is innocuous that if Sanzo hadn’t let Goku see his amusement visually, he never would have guessed it was there.

“Hey, there’s _always_ room for ice cream,” Goku quips.

Sanzo rolls his eyes and rises, then cocks an eyebrow expectantly. Goku doesn’t need any more of an opening than that. Instead of just leading the way though, Goku decides it’s time to take another chance, that he might not get much more time to procrastinate and should push his luck earlier rather than when he really does have to leave. So he grabs Sanzo’s hand in his and begins to walk.

“Alright, there’s this really awesome place though it’s a ways from here. They opened right before I left with Nataku; don’t worry, I checked to see if they’re still in business ‘cause I wanted to stop by anyway. We’ll have to take the subway, but it’ll be totally worth it, promise! ”

At first, Goku can only take a few steps, arm extended to its full length and taut, while Sanzo torpefies, staring at Goku’s hand folded around his. Goku stops instead of tugging, but keeps talking.

“. . . they make everything themselves in shop: ice cream, soda, their waffle cones, _everything_. . . .”

Sanzo finally moves, just enough to meet Goku’s eyes, and the brunette is so sure that he’s going to yank his arm away or tell Goku to let go, but instead he takes a step forward. Goku keeps their gazes locked carefully and doesn’t smile or change his expression at all while he just keeps talking.

“They started off in this neighborhood, just riding bikes with an attached freezer and selling what they carried, but then because so many people asked if they would, they finally decided to open a shop.”

Once Sanzo makes a judgment on something,  it seems his actions don’t detract from it, but increase its intensity. So when he starts walking, it’s only a couple steps before his shoulder’s brushing Goku’s and he’s the one briefly in the lead before they find equilibrium. Their hands are folded together and Goku waits half a block before pushing for a little more by turning his hand so he can entwine his fingers with Sanzo’s. The blonde has no clear visible reaction, but Goku feels the slight vibration of a spasm, a brief twitching away, before fingers press against Goku’s, filling the slight gaps and interlacing their fingers more firmly. Goku can’t quite help the responding grin and slight bounce in his step. Their arms interlay and their shoulders brush with every step. It should be uncomfortable, but any physical unpleasantness is inundated by the pleasure of intimacy and the trust it implies.

“I hate subways,” Sanzo grumbles as they near the stairs.

Goku grins. “This place is worth it, I swear!”

At this time of night, the tide of day workers is rushing out of the subways, while the night workers sweep in. Goku squeezes Sanzo’s hand and lets go, but the blonde grabs him by the wrist and pulls him along as they work their way through the currents, Sanzo making liberal use of his elbows. Goku had forgotten how daunting the subway crowds in this city could be and is relieved that Sanzo hadn’t let go of him. Goku curls his fingers around Sanzo’s wrist, mirroring the other’s grasp. Sanzo pays for subway tickets, though Goku protests.

“You paid for the food, I pay for this,” Sanzo shoots back irritably.

“That’s not how this is supposed to work,” Goku shouts over the noise created by mass amounts of people going about their lives. “I’m supposed to be paying you back.”

Sanzo shrugs. Goku feels the motion as it vibrates down Sanzo’s arm more than he sees it. He waits to pursue the matter as they propel forward into the open subway doors, shoved at by the people behind them, next to them, and by the exiting stream of passengers in front of them. Even though they got on quickly, all of the seats are already full. Well, there is one empty, but Goku makes sure an elderly woman carrying shopping bags gets it. Something that Sanzo rolls his eyes at as he squeezes past, releasing Goku’s wrist in the process; but Goku catches the corner of a smile in the reflection off a window, so he doesn’t worry about it. Just as he finishes helping the lady and is almost to Sanzo, the car lurches into motion, sending him stumbling across the floor—trying to keep his balance. While his body considers whether to send him crashing into the floor or the wall, Sanzo grabs him by the shoulder and pulls him close.

“Idiot. That’s what happens when you help others instead of taking care of yourself first.”

Sanzo’s holding onto one of the metal poles with one hand, slightly over shoulder height. Goku grabs onto the pole at chest height as Sanzo releases his shoulder, but then slides his hand higher, so it just brushes the bottom of Sanzo’s hand, and leans in with a cheeky smile in place.

“But you _like_ that.”

Sanzo had been the one to hold on in the station, and to grab him when he was fighting with gravity and his own stubborn legs, so Goku says it even though he saw Sanzo’s shoulders tighten as he leaned in. Now though, Sanzo’s purple eyes narrow, and it looks like he’s going to say something so Goku rushes on ahead.

“Anyway, I get ice cream, _and_ return tickets.”

Nataku would admonish him for cutting Sanzo off, but the brunette honestly isn’t sure how Sanzo was going to respond, and isn’t sure he wants to know. Sanzo’s eyes haven’t relaxed from their glare though. Instead a single eyebrow arcs. And Goku knows, without a doubt, that Sanzo knows exactly what he just did. He’s sure the older man won’t go along with the deflection and braces himself. But Sanzo’s lips quirk and his eyes flicker with formidable mischief, an expression that Goku decides might just be his favorite so far.

“Look at your ticket.”

Goku looks. Sanzo paid for a round-trip.

“You are an underhanded jerk,” Goku informs him. Sanzo coughs out a laugh, partially turning while raising a hand, as if to disguise it as an actual cough. Goku wonders who Sanzo’s trying to keep it from. Not him, he realizes a moment later when Sanzo tilts back toward him, traces of his slight smile still lingering. But the blonde doesn’t return to his earlier position, instead tilting further so that his forehead is only an inch away from Goku’s. It’s the closest they’ve been. Well, aside from when Sanzo was checking his nose. But that was obviously different.

“And you _like_ it.” There’s a sharper edge to the phrase than it had when Goku said it, a hint of defiance and the wicked humor of a smug victor who’s pulled one over his rival. And he has caught Goku. Despite all he’d noticed, Goku still thought he was the driving force, and then made assumptions based on that, but then Sanzo goes and escalates their playful banter from teasing flirting to something . . . else.

Then the car lurches and Goku crashes into Sanzo, who jerks his head back to avoid a collision of foreheads and reaches out his free hand to steady the brunette. While Sanzo successfully stops Goku from falling into anyone else, the moment is wrecked. Goku can’t help but think that is so typical, that Sanzo finally opens up some more and intensifies the situation, and then something like this happens. The universe is laughing at him. Or Gojyo is. Probably both.

 

Kanzeon is laughing at him. Sanzo can just _hear_ her. His adoptive aunt is almost always bored and her favorite pastime to counteract the monotony is poking at him until she gets _some_ kind of reaction. His paranoia has apparently reached new levels, Sanzo decides when he catches himself wondering if Kanzeon got the universe to do shit for her somehow. It seriously fucking figures though. The first time he actually flirts back with someone and he almost gets his nose broken. Talk about irony.

“Trying to break my nose now?” Sanzo grumbles as he holds onto Goku’s elbow until the stupid vehicle they’re stuck in stops its unrestrained swaying.

Goku gives him a sheepish smile, “I didn’t try to! It’s the driver’s fault.”

Sanzo doesn’t say anything to that, but he doesn’t let go of Goku’s arm either. They stand in silence as the outgoing tide of people trundles off and the roller lurches in. There’s still a bustle of pushing bodies and people squeezing past each other when they’re in movement again. A couple people stumble over, and Sanzo pulls Goku closer, navigating them out of the crush of bodies and into the tight leeway between the door and the divider next to it. It’s ridiculous how many people jam into one single subway car, not to mention it’s annoying as hell.

They’re getting smushed anyway, so Sanzo moves his hand from Goku’s elbow and wraps an arm around him instead, tossing up a mental middle finger to the part of his mind that doesn’t particularly care for this change. He flips the bird at the universe too while he’s at it. Even with Goku drawn close, they’re bumped into quite a few times before everyone finally settles. Sanzo’s not keen on conversation with so many people pressed close, and it seems Goku picks up on this, as he stays blessedly silent. Of course being quiet doesn’t mean that the brunette stops pushing Sanzo’s boundaries. Even though they’re already closer than Sanzo’s generally comfortable with, Goku continues to edge forward as if trying to flatten his face against Sanzo’s collarbone, then slumps against the blonde. Sanzo can almost swear the other fell asleep, except that he can see Goku watching the other passengers.

Goku stays as motionless as one can on a subway while Sanzo tries to force himself to relax, and not push Goku or the idiots crashing into them away. Relaxing muscles rather than tensing them has never been something Sanzo’s been particularly good at, just as he’s never been quite comfortable with others touching him. Still, he loosens his shoulders and back as much as he can, though each jostle he’s subjected to makes him have to start all over again as he immediately stiffens while fighting the instinct to lash out. At least Goku doesn’t fidget, something he’s prone to, as far as Sanzo’s seen.

One more merciless stop later and then it’s them and Sanzo steps away from Goku immediately, though he keeps hold of the shorter’s arm as he elbows his way through and gets off as soon as possible. Goku’s practically dragged along as Sanzo hightails it for the stairs leading out of this hell. As soon as they’re in fresh (well, comparatively) air, Sanzo removes himself from any contact with Goku and widens the distance between them with what can only be tightly controlled relief.

 

When Sanzo said he didn’t like subways, Goku had no real idea just how intense the blonde’s distaste for them was. Goku was honestly surprised when Sanzo’s arm encircled him as he maneuvered them both as far away from others as possible. And he’ll be the first to admit how he took advantage of the situation to move as close as possible to the blonde. Goku could tell Sanzo wanted to push him away but couldn’t help but be selfish—he has no idea whether he’ll ever see the blonde again after this night, after all. Eventually, Sanzo relaxed minisculely. But then every time anyone moved against Sanzo, the man became rigid all over again. Goku went as lax as possible, trying not to overload Sanzo’s sensory input and attempting to give the other some sort of grounding.

The speed with which Sanzo got them out of the subway was unbelievable; Goku has never managed to get out so quickly, though he always tried to exit as fast as possible. Of course, Goku usually tries to slip past people and Sanzo just moves, forcing others out of his way with sheer physical force and an imposing glower that made people’s protests shrivel up.

Goku feels disappointed when Sanzo distances himself completely, but he doesn’t try to impel the other. Sanzo obviously has a low tolerance for physical contact, and the subway has certainly drained any of his inclinations to be physically close with anyone. So when Sanzo looks over at him, Goku just grins back.

“This way.” He starts walking and Sanzo’s immediately next to him, though the gap between them is broader than it has been, constraining others to move around or between them. Internally he chants waitwaitwait in time to his memory of Nataku’s urging him to be patient. Let others come to you. Let Sanzo initiate when he’s ready to.

They turn the corner into an alleyway, one that would be dingy except for the ice cream cone-shaped sign and a colorful umbrella with a table and a few chairs nearby. It’s then that Sanzo moves closer. Logically, it’s because the space is smaller and they’re going through a door. Illogically it’s because Sanzo wants to be closer. Whichever it is, Goku likes the result.

They’re immediately handed a menu of the shop’s current ice cream and soda flavors, and Goku just wants _everything_. Each item is made in house and yet the prices are reasonable (unlike most hand-done ice cream that costs you your firstborn child). Goku eventually decides on strawberry ice cream (with vast amounts of whole strawberries) with a chocolate sauce so thick and rich it’s practically chocolate fudge plus honey whipped cream—though calling such heavenly bliss by the common name is akin to comparing real chocolate to Hershey’s. Sanzo decides on a lemon thyme soda with their fresh, garden mint chocolate chip ice cream. Lemon, thyme, and mint go together, but Goku’s still not sure about the combo. In any case, he seems to like it. Without speaking, they set off walking again, and Sanzo stays close, less than a foot away this time. And Goku tries to be patient, he does, but eventually he just sidles over a bit more. Sanzo immediately takes a step away, but then moves back. Goku finishes in record time (“unnatural” Gojyo claims), and it’s only then that they start conversing again.

“Why did you return it?” Sanzo asks after a while.

“The wallet? I felt bad.”

Sanzo gives him a strange look. Incredulous maybe? “Idiot. That’s not an answer.”

Goku’s not sure what Sanzo’s trying to figure out, but he takes a moment to think about it a bit more. . . . before giving up with a shrug. “Isn’t that enough though? I stole and felt guilty and tried to do what I could to fix things.”

“Hn.”

If Goku had to put some kind of explanation to Sanzo’s circumspect expression, he’d guess bemused, but any words he knows that describe emotions always seem too restrained.

“The only person I know who was as impulsive and ditzy as you was Koumyou. . . . What?” Goku’s grinning at him in utter exuberance.

“You compared me to your adoptive father.” And if that’s not a sign that Sanzo likes him (even if it’s only like Gojyo said: “Some people begin to like you only in hopes you’ll be less obnoxious”), Goku has completely misunderstood the guy.

“‘tch, I said you were an airhead and uninhibited; that’s not a compliment.” Sanzo chucks his empty cup into a trashcan as if to emphasize his point. But Goku just ducks his head down and tries to keep his smile to himself, which is easy enough with Sanzo glowering straight ahead. Since they’re already walking in the direction of Sanzo’s apartment, they just keep going, avoiding the agony-inducing hell-on-tracks. Besides, they’re closer to their destination than they were from the previous location.

“You were happy that I brought it back though,” Goku points out. Sanzo just shrugs in response. Their shoulders are brushing again now, so once again, Goku reaches for Sanzo’s hand, which responds somewhat reluctantly, but doesn’t move away. Looking up, the few stars that have managed to fight through the city smog and cast their light are as beautiful as always. The moon’s soft luster out-glows even the brave stars. Of course, with his head arched up to view its zenith, Goku fails to notice the broken concrete and stumbles over it.

“What are you doing?” Sanzo demands, having been jostled by the other’s flailing.

“Looking at the stars and moon! They’re real pretty~”

Sanzo brings them to a halt and looks up. “They look the same as always,” he comments as he starts walking again.

“Well, I guess. But they’re still so . . . Well, I guess I just have a fondness for them.” At the questioning eyebrow, he expands. “Whenever I felt like everything was outta my control and I was trapped, I’d stargaze, and it always makes me feel peaceful and . . . well they’re kinda freeing aren’t they?”

Sanzo glances up. “I suppose.”

It’s been quiet for a few minutes when Sanzo speaks up again. “The moonlight, always felt so heavy to me before. But now it’s just . . . well, less annoying than the sun at any rate.”

Goku wants to ask what he means by heavy, but at the same time feels like he knows what Sanzo means. Watching the moon in nights filled with nightmares or when one couldn’t sleep, waiting for the sun and the new day, it just felt like more than he could deal with. But, the sun to him used to just be another day that he hated, which was always much worse. The moon was a time of peace at least, no matter how it weighed him down “Mm, I really used to hate the sun, but now I love it! It’s all bright and glowy, like your hair!”

Sanzo snorts. “You really are weird.”

 

Overall, the walk back is pretty quiet. And surreal, like the whole day has been. If Sanzo wakes up in the morning and it turns out to be that stupid cliché where the protagonist (ha, like he’d be the protagonist in any story; he’s better suited to being an antagonist) wakes up and finds the entire thing to have been a dream. . . . Well he’ll shoot someone. Who, he’s not sure. But someone.

Because truth is, well. This has been the most relaxed he’s been in a very, very long time. Sanzo had forgotten what having loose muscles felt like, what being . . . content was. Now that he remembers, he’s damn as hell not going to lose it. But Sanzo’s not sure he’s comfortable being stuck with the person who came with that experience. He’s never been adept at human relationships, or dealing with people in general.

Wait.

“I’m not a fucking girl,” Sanzo snarls, “Or fragile. I don’t need to be escorted back. Aren’t you supposed to head the other way at this point?”

“Nope! Your fist isn’t fragile at all,” Goku teases. “I wanted to walk with you a bit more is all.”

Sanzo changes directions abruptly, dragging Goku with him. “If we’re doing the whole walking someone back, I’m walking you back. You look like fucking jailbait.”

“Hey! I do not. I can take care of myself too you know.”

“Obviously. Seeing as how you’re alive.” Since Goku has managed to fight for his survival more than most people have. Sanzo gets his way anyway—and then has no clue what he’s supposed to do next, now that they’re standing at the terminal, waiting for Goku’s bus. He’s not about to admit that though. Besides, it’d be easier to just end it here.

Goku’s shifting from foot to foot until the bus pulls in and all his nervous energy flees and his grip on Sanzo’s hand tightens.

“Jeez, you trying to break my hand now, monkey?” Goku lets go of his hand immediately.

“Sorry.” For a moment he’s gloomy but then he bounces up into Sanzo’s space. “Hey! You apologize too, I am not a monkey.” Sanzo rolls his eyes and just grabs Goku’s hand with the one the idiot hadn’t crushed.

“Calm down, would you?”

 

The bus is here. He’s going to leave. And nothing will change. But something has already changed, hasn’t it? Sanzo grabbed his hand again, even after complaining.

Goku waits as other people board, trying to recollect his courage—which seems harder to find than it was when he first started this whole thing, and how does that make any sense? As the last couple people move up, Goku turns to Sanzo.

“Sorryagainandthankyouandtodaywasreallyawesomemaybewecoulddoitagainsometime.” And then he leans up and presses his lips against the other’s and then he runs. Like a coward. Not even waiting for the other’s response.

The bus is pulling out when Goku finally gains the bravery to peek out the window and look back at where he left Sanzo. The blonde is standing where Goku left him, not waving, but also staying to watch the bus leave.

And Goku, the stupid monkeybrain that he apparently is, doesn’t even notice he’s holding a carefully folded piece of paper until he’s halfway home. It’s sitting unobtrusively in the palm of the hand that Sanzo had grabbed just before Goku’s bout of insanity. With shaking hands, Goku unfolds it.

 

Next time, call first. Unless you want to be punched again.

393-585-3589

 

Goku smiles all the way back home, and doesn’t even throw anything at Gojyo when the redhead takes one look at him and leers, “ _Someone_ got laid. Must have been kinky, goin’ by that black eye! I’m jealous~” Besides, Hakkai hit Gojyo for him.


End file.
